


stadium

by hamletmustdie



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Confessions, Conflicting Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Prom, Torque is a bully and I feel bad making him so mean, ZaDr, comfort? Zim can't be comforting ever, mentions of bullying, with a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletmustdie/pseuds/hamletmustdie
Summary: Zim looked pointedly away, and Dib did, too. The alien scowled. “Why do you look at me like that all the time? All…. Sticky and warm-like? It’s stupid. Quit doing it.”





	1. stadium

He hadn’t cried about it. This wasn’t the first time, anyway. Dib stared down at his glasses and was merely relieved they hadn’t been broken.

  
The sun was about to start setting; how long had he been sulking and muttering to himself on the bleachers? He glanced at his phone and saw that it was nearly six. School had ended hours ago and everyone had left hours ago and it would take at least four days of no sight of him for his father to finally take notice; and even then, he’d say something along the lines of, “ _Your brother sure has been out with his foreign friend for some time now_ ,” Gaz would just mutter in agreement.

Lying on his back on the bleachers, Dib thought about how he wasn’t even allowed to be self pitying right now; it was his fault Torque had punched him in the first place. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near the guy’s girlfriend to begin with, and no he hadn’t been up to anything slimey. She’d made some off hand comment about something weird she’d seen Zim doing once, and Dib had stopped her (alone) in the hall to ask about it.  
Her name was Stephanie and sure, it was true Dib had liked her freshman year. She was tall and friendly and she laughed at Dib like everyone else but it was less malicious and more like she genuinely thought he had a good sense of humor. He didn’t, but he was a softie, and she had a nice smile. The crush didn’t really extend to much else and he’d since gotten over it, but it was just his luck that Torque pass them by, and Dib be standing shoulder to shoulder with her.

It was still pretty tender, the place around his right eye. Dib touched the skin for the millionth time, thought of all the thousands of bruises he’d received in his lifetime, mostly from Zim. The constant prodding and fasciation with his own injuries. This one just felt embarrassing. Torque hadn’t grabbed him in the hallway, he’d waited until later that day after class had ended and he’d been headed for the parking lot to go home. There’d been other kids around, but Dib didn’t exactly have a reputation for having many buddies. The one kid he was around most was his sworn enemy, even if they were more a reluctant alliance now.

In the parking lot, Torque had called him something stupid, something that sorta stung, but Dib was working eagerly to scrub that memory away. Something about him obsessing over Zim and leaving his girlfriend alone. Something like that. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he hadn’t seen much of Zim that day…

  
A thought which made him sit up, push on his glasses, and face straight ahead as he felt some sort of irritated tension swim into his shoulders...

“So _this_ is where you’ve been hiding, earth-smelly. Did you think you could hide forever?”

 _Speak of the devil._ Dib almost jolted, had he not half expected Zim to show up from nowhere since he was ten years old. He scowled over his shoulder. “What the hell are you going on about? I saw you this morning.”

Zim ignored him, standing proudly just a few bleachers above him, hands on his hips. “This is a _terrible_ hiding spot. I can see you from miles away. And what’s wrong with your face? I don’t recall giving you _that_ ,” He pointed, curling his lip, to Dib’s face. Self consciously, despite himself, Dib hid his eye.

  
“It’s none of your business, space boy. Now what do you want?”

“You promised to give me your Earth country-America-thingy homework this afternoon.” Zim crossed his arms, shifted his weight to the other foot, looking angry.

Dib blinked. “Oh my God. Were you- waiting since-”

“Since three PM, YES. And you never showed.”

Dib squinted. “... You… That’s a lot of patience, especially for you-”

“Yes, well-”

He gave him a deadpan glare. “You totally forgot. You weren’t in the library since three. In fact, if _I_ were there, _I’d_ be the one waiting since three, you liar-”

“SILENCE! Perhaps Zim did forget but I was still waiting and you still forgot your promise! Now who gave you that?”

“I told you it isn’t any of your-”

“It was that _Torque_ - _creature_ wasn’t it? That slab of meat looking worm child…” Zim shuddered in disgust. Dib grimaced.

“If I give you my homework will you leave?”

“Why did he hit you? What did you do to anger the Torque-beast?”

“I didn’t do anything, Zim, now will you-”

“He didn’t break your glasses, I see-”

“Zim, oh my God, can you please just piss off? Please?”

Zim’s eyes narrowed suddenly and he crossed his arms. He tapped his foot impatiently, glanced aside, then said, “Perhaps Zim would offer to attack him for you, if only because you are Zim’s enemy and Zim’s enemy alone. But you’re unworthy of such assistance from the likes of me,”

“I don’t want your help with anything, Zim,”

“Does it hurt? Your species is so vulnerable to the smallest of attacks. I would know,” Zim thumbed his chest.

Giving up, Dib sighed, rubbed at his forehead. “Sure, yeah. Look,” he swung his legs over the bleachers and reached for his backpack, throwing it open. He dug through it until he found his homework, shoddily written just so Zim could struggle reading it. He’d even left an insult written in Irken in the margins. The teachers found Zim and Dib’s secret writing very annoying, and often threatened to dock points if it was included, but the note writing continued. Zim had taught him part of the language after Dib had nearly had to beg him for it months ago. “Take this. It’s this week's American history homework and next week’s. I didn’t have anything better to do this afternoon, so there you go,”

Zim snatched it from him with a PAK leg. He scanned the page then gasped, pointed furiously to the margin where Dib had written a particularly scathing insult in scratchy Irken.

“THIS! I should not have taught you such- to use my own language against me,”

“Get over it.”  
Zim grumbled, allowing his PAK to fold it away. Zim voiced plenty of regret for teaching him Irken, even if their lessons continued still. He treated it like a painful obligation but Dib saw the relief in getting to speak (and write) in his native tongue to someone else on Earth.  
He wondered if that ever made him lonely, being the only of his species for millions of lightyears all around. When he mentioned the Tallest’s now, he often included a time stamp of the last time they’d contacted him. The last Dib had heard, it’d been nearly a year.  
It wasn’t lost on Dib, the frantic laughter that would follow the lengthening time, the glance up at the sky.

“Are you gonna go now?”

“Why? What are you planning on doing once Zim is gone?”  
Dib shrugged, irritated. He looked away, towards the city and the sky and the empty, green stadium. It occurred to him he’d only been to one school game, and that was because Zim had announced he was going. He’d learned the reason was that he was planning on planting radioactive, mind control beetles in all of the players’ helmets. It hadn’t worked, no thanks to Dib, and also Gir, who had accidentally replaced the beetles with ladybugs. But nonetheless.

“I’d go home but I don’t really wanna deal with whatever Gaz’ll have to say about this,” He rubbed at his face tiredly; Torque had punched that, too. He’d received two hits that day. It’d been fun.

Zim laughed. “The Dib-sister has a far better sense of humor than you,”

“Yeah, sure she does- oh, shit,” Three little patters of bright red landed on the thigh of his pants. He must’ve accidentally bumped his nose again. It had bled pretty badly after his incident with Torque and he’d spent a good twenty minutes sticking rolled up pieces of toilet paper up his nose to get it to stop. He’d been lucky he hadn’t bled all over his shirt.

Behind him, he heard Zim sigh and click his tongue, “And how did you manage _that,_ Dib-stupid,”

“What?” He hadn’t even been facing him. Holding the middle of his face, he glanced back at Zim, who was squinting, and recalled his atennae, hidden beneath that stupid wig. He still didn't understand how Irken’s could smell, if it came from the space where a nose might be or their antennae; Zim wouldn’t say and he was inconsistent in his mannerisms. It always freaked Dib out, his keen sense of smell, and it didn’t help that Dib couldn’t figure out where he was receiving the information. He especially didn’t like Irken’s keen intellect as far as blood went. Even the blood of a species they had never had any contact with.

“You humans bleed like stuck pigs, it’s disgusting.” Still, Zim marched forward, stepping over the bleachers. Dib watched him hop onto the place right above him, so he had a foot of height over him. He grinned down at him. “Let me see,”

“What? No,”

“Do you want to bleed forever? Just drain all of your precious, filthy life-force from that hole in the middle of your face?”

“That isn’t how nosebleeds work, you dumbass,”

A PAK leg struck out and revealed a white handkerchief. “Silence. Let me see-”

“Why the hell do you have that?” Zim ignored him and grabbed the wrist that held his hand to his face, yanking it away. Dib cried out; Zim’s grip could be ironclad sometimes. “Zim, what’s your fucking problem-” But squinting down at him, Zim leaned forward and gently wiped away where the blood had begun to run. Despite the earlier injury, the bleeding wasn’t much at all. After a few seconds of dabbing, it stopped. Looking only a little disgusted, Zim stood back, waving the little white handkerchief almost daintily.

“Now you owe Zim a favor. I’ve saved your life,”

“Yeah, okay,” Dib tried to sound sarcastic, but really he was just a little too thrown off by the gentle way Zim had held his head while he’d cleaned blood off his face. Before he could process that, Zim was leaning forward again. He took Dib by the chin, letting a PAK leg take the soiled handkerchief away, and tilted his head none too lightly to the right, then left. One thumb idly rubbed at Dib’s jaw. He held his breath.

“Hm. This is nothing, Dib-filth.”

“No, of course not,” Sudden embarrassment was weaving its way into his cheeks again. He tried to pull his head back to touch where Zim’s fingers had been, but the Irken gripped him tighter.

“But if you _insist_ on acting like a little smeet about it, Zim shall help you,”

“What?”

“Silence. Be still.” He plucked off his glasses and carefully folded them away. While one hand held a slightly struggling Dib’s face, another took an item his PAK was handing to him; a silvery, thin tube looking thing that was just far enough away for Dib to not be able to make it out.

“What the hell is that?” Dib asked, half panicked,

“This will feel strange to you,” said Zim, taking it and beginning to unscrew whatever it was.

Dib frowned. “Will it hurt?”

“Do you want it to?” Zim growled.

“ _No_ ,” Dib tried to pull away. Zim grabbed either side of his head and yanked him closer again.

“Then _sit_ _still_ , earth-boy,” Wary, Dib grimaced and tried to do as he was told. Zim clicked his tongue, complained about how tense he was and how distracting it was becoming. The silvery thing turned out to be a tube, as Dib had thought, about the size of a tube of hair dye. Zim unscrewed it’s tiny cap and Dib caught sight of an alien gel, grossly thick and nearly neon purple in color. “I understand you are vulnerable without those seeing-glasses, but Zim won’t take advantage of you right now,”

“Wow, thanks,” Deadpan.

  
“You’re welcome.”

Dib rolled his eyes. “Will it like, leave some sort of residue?”

“No, it will absorb into your skin entirely,”

Dib jerked back, this time successfully moving from Zim’s grasp. Zim groaned, irritated. “Wait, wait, wait, hold on. Hold on. Are you sure this isn’t going to kill me or something? This stuff isn’t even made for humans, how do you know it won’t like, make my eye pop out of head or something?”

Zim looked at him like he’d grown three new arms. “If I wanted to pop your eyes from your head, I would have brought eye-bursting cream. _This_ ,” he waved the silvery tube, “is not _that_. Now, do you trust Zim or not?”

“ _Fuck_ no, of course I don’t trust you! What kind of idiot question is that?”

Zim stomped one foot against the bleachers and Dib felt it shudder beneath him. “I try to extend worthless human kindness to you and this is how you respond!” He flung his hands into the air. “Fine! If that’s how you would have it, you-”

“Wait! Okay! Fine! Just,” Dib held up his hands, and Zim glared at him, arms crossed, pouting. “Come on, understand me here! If I was trying to do something for you, would you trust me to do it without, like, putting a tracking device in you or something”

“You put a tracking device in me?” Zim hissed.

“No, Jesus Christ, nevermind, just- go ahead. Do the gel thing, it’s-... I appreciate that you… Care, I guess.”  
Zim stared at him, tapping his foot in thought, before he muttered something in Irken (Dib didn’t recognize all of it but the root of a word which implied a creature in which slavery is inherent). He reached and grabbed Dib roughly by the chin and drew him nearer. Wordlessly, he unscrewed the cap then removed a single glove.  
Dib tried not to watch in mild fascination. Getting Zim to remove his gloves was a rare occurrence. He hated touching anything, _especially_ Dib.

Zim squeezed a frightening amount out onto his fingers and leaned forward. Dib flinched, waited… and felt that the gel was almost entirely unnoticeable. Aside from a faint cooling affect, he felt nothing. Dib swallowed. Zim was _very_ close. He could see the weird and terribly smooth texture of Zim’s face; Irken’s were strikingly smooth, like ugly, green marble. Even though he was squinting, from this distance Dib could catch the bright fuchsia of his proper eyes beneath the contacts. He always wondered how much did the contacts obscure for Zim, if they affected his peripheral; he imagined whatever he lost in sight, his antennae made up for in sensitivity. So much for blind spots.

“Uh. You sure that isn’t, uh, bothering you, right now?”

“Hm? What is?”

“Touching.”

“This is how it must be done, isn’t it?”

“I-I don’t know, I don’t know anything about whatever that gel is,”

“Well, Dib-stupid, I cannot apply it well if I can’t quite feel where I’m touching _right_?” Zim shook his head and muttered another insult. Dib rolled his eyes, but kept his lips tightly shut. He was glad Zim was acting at least half civil.  
They weren’t kids anymore, and Dib had learned that Zim was adjusting (exceptionally slowly!) to this detail. It could be argued that Zim had begun to _mature_ , but that would be giving him too much credit. He was a little less loud now. A little less willing to disrupt everything just to ridicule or attack Dib, and Dib had changed accordingly, too. He’d turned eighteen months ago, had obeyed his father’s wishes to fill out plenty of college applications, and watched as not a single one responded back to him. The disillusionment of adulthood was already looming over him. And then there was the subject of Zim…

If he didn’t go to college, where would he go? He’d have to get his own place… But where? In the city? Would Zim wander the crowded streets just to harass him, even though he _hated_ the inner city?

  
They’d talked about space travel; Dib would exchange human secrets for some planned weeks spent in Zim’s cruiser. Zim had since boasted of knowing of places Dib would love. When Dib had asked for coordinates so he could take Tak’s ship himself, Zim had bristled, demanded he be the one to take Dib there because 1), quote, “ _space is too massive and brilliant and amazing for your tiny, human brains_ ”, and 2) Zim simply insisted it had to be him to show Dib. It was irritating and a little… Warm feeling all at once.

  
One of Zim’s hands had wandered to hold nearly the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair. Dib tensed, Zim pretended not to notice; if they were younger, he might have batted his hand away. Now, he found himself almost leaning into the touch. What had happened to all his childhood rage and determination against Zim?

“... I _can_ crush the Torque-beast, Dib,” Zim mumbled after some time. Dib glanced at him before averting his eyes; Zim was too close to be making eye contact with right now.

“I can handle it myself, thank you,”

“Ha! You’re a twig against him! You could do nothing,”

“I don’t need your help,”

“Liar,”

It was nearly April, and in a few weeks, prom would be upon them. Dib didn’t care, hadn’t asked anyone, didn’t intend to, and in fact, had a date with bigfoot in the woods that very night. He recalled, Zim’s hands stirring the thought, that the alien was agonizing over who to take, convinced only real Earth children went to prom, and those who didn’t were ridiculed and experimented on. It was easy to scare Zim. And it was funny how the sudden idea of Zim at prom (and Dib _not_ ) with someone else, made him squirm.

“Alright,” Zim clicked his tongue, squinting, and examining his work, pulling Dib from his reverie. A thin smile formed in his mouth, and Dib caught how it reached his big eyes. He didn’t expect him next to lean forward and place a kiss just beneath Dib’s right eye where the skin was soft and thin. Still holding Dib’s face, he pulled back and said, “There. Ehh, all better, as you stupid Earth creatures say, yes?” And he placed Dib’s glasses back on his face.

Dib could only blink. His mouth was slightly open. He could hear the distant sound of cars rumbling by on the street across the field. The sun had fallen to an angle and the surface of the water tower a few miles away caught it’s light blindingly. He reached up to inspect the damage. The feeling of a fresh bruise was rapidly fading.

“What?” Zim scowled and Dib scrambled for the moment, to grab at it again.

“Nothing. No, I mean. You. Do you- do you even know what you just did?”

He took a tiny step back. “Of course I do, I fixed your stupid eye hole.”

“No, no I mean-”

“ _What_?”

Dib felt stupid squandering the moment, irritated at Zim’s inability to be either vulnerable or straight forward or gentle for longer than four seconds. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Forget it. Thanks.”

They glared at each other. A long stretch of silence followed before Zim looked pointedly away.

“Why do you look at me like that all the time?”

“Like what?” His cheeks reddened, looking the opposite direction as Zim.

“All…. Sticky and warm-like? It’s stupid. Quit doing it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, slumping his shoulders a bit.

“You do not give any _else_ that look, do you, Dib-stupid?”

“Zim, I don’t even know what you’re referring to when you say that-”

He grabbed his shoulders. “I just TOLD you! That- that-” he waved one hand as if that were an answer in itself, “You look _kind_ towards Zim, as if we are not rivals, sworn enemies. We are not friends. But you look at me like I am. Or something like it. We aren’t. Understand? We are not friends.” Zim blinked, letting go of Dib’s shirt very suddenly and clasping his fingers nervously together. “But, ehh, Zim understands I am irresistible so, I do not blame you for your pining, as horrible and terrible and distracting as it may be... HOWEVER, I shall have you thinking of no one else in the same way. So I’ll ask you again, because you are so slow and stupid despite that massive head. Do you give any of the humans that horrible look?”

Dib was still focusing on _we’re not friends_ and Zim’s anxious tic intertwining his fingers together, pressing his thumbs into each other. He could feel where the same fingers had gingerly touched up his black eye, the weird gel he’d smoothed into his skin very gently. And then the kiss. He _certainly_ hadn’t forgotten that.

“What if I do?”

Zim’s eyes narrowed. “You cannot! There is no competition equal to Zim.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t answered me!”

“I know.”

Zim made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “ANSWER!”

“No,”

Zim grabbed him by the shirt again, “Your disobedience shall be noted for future reference, Di-”

“I meant _no_ , I _don’t_ look at anyone else like that, you moron,”

“Oh,” Zim didn’t let him go, but his grip loosened. He looked away when Dib glared at him, and he thought he saw some sort of coloring in Zim’s sharp cheeks. “This shall not spare you during my inevitable invasion and devastation of your miserable planet, you know,”

“Whatever,” A silence came next. Now Dib was all too aware that Zim hadn’t let him go.

“This means you are required to accompany me at that school prom thingy, yes?”

“Wh-” Dib stared at him, “ _what_?”

“What do you mean what? The school prom! You are required to take a human partner to,” he shuddered, looking half ill, “ _dance_ with. Or were you planning on not going and being ridiculed and mocked for the rest of your short, miserable life?”

“Honestly, yeah.” Dib nearly choked out a laugh. He didn’t want to be crammed in a gym with hundreds of kids he’d known for far too long, just to not have a date and slink along the walls, watching everyone have fun. He’d leave early and he’d likely go home, sit up all night on the computer or reading and he’d think about his own lack of friends, dates, and every other thing a normal kid was supposed to have.  
Maybe Zim would crawl into his window and demand they go buy slushies together because Zim wouldn't admit he was afraid of the cashier there. Maybe Zim would have some stupid plan to poison the punch bowl and Dib would have to stop it.

“You fool! You’ve already claimed you were coming with me anyway, so where has that conviction gone-”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Gretchen girl told me everyone said you were taking Zim! Me! To the prom! And no one else! They all keep laughing about it probably because you have yet to have the GUTS! To ask out the amazing _Zim_ … It embarrasses me that my date should be so-”

“I- she really said that?” Dib asked, blinking, but Zim ignored him.

“Honestly, I deserve far better, but truthfully you are the only human who seems to have at least a _tiny_ understanding as to how great I am. So you will have to do as I see there are no Irken’s here…”

This conversation was getting exhausting, and Dib was still reeling a bit both from the kiss and the new information that their classmates thought he had a crush. He didn’t like that he was realizing it might be true. “If you care so much, Zim, then why don’t you ask me?”

“Fine! Go with Zim to the prom! I command you to!”

He hadn’t expected him to ask right away. “Uh,”

“You must say yes,”

“Ummm,”

“SAY YES!”

“Fine! Jesus! Okay! I’ll go with you!”

“Good,” He let Dib go abruptly, grabbing one of his gloves from where a PAK leg had held it for him, and slipped it on Dib caught himself on the bleachers behind him and watched Zim begin hopping down to the ground level. “You make things so difficult. Had you asked Zim months ago we would be past this debacle and I would have been obligated to defend you from Torque-beasts, and you would not have had that stupid bruise. But whatever, you probably deserved it,” he waved his hand. “Now let’s go,”

“Where?” Dib called after him, reaching to touch the place where he’d had a black eye. The bruise felt entirely gone now. Below, Zim was ignoring him, looking up at the sky before turning on his heel to look up at Dib.

“You know, Dib-thing, I know exactly what I did earlier,”

“What?”

“The kiss. I know what it means, stupid. Zim is not lost on all your sickly human gestures. I know what I did.” He marched for the middle railing towards the bottom of the stadium. “Now come, foolish earth-boy! Gir asked for milkshakes tonight and I promised I would bring him five.”

Dib nearly sputtered from the first confession, touching his mouth briefly with still bloodied fingers. He didn’t have time to dwell on it however; Zim was nearly at the bottom of the bleachers.

“I, uh, you need me to do this?” Dib haltingly stood up, gathered his things and followed Zim.

“Yes,”

“I’m not paying this time, jerk.” Zim scoffed, his plans foiled.

“Whatever! Come or don’t. I don’t need you either way,”

“Yeah right. You can’t keep intimidating all the clerks at all the ice cream joints in town. Eventually they’ll realize you’re hardly a threat and quit giving you shit for free.”

“Silence! Zim is a threat!” Zim cried as Dib followed hurriedly after him.


	2. Prom Dates & Core-Sausages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim is certain he can follow through with the human romance ritual of "PROM DATES" and "DANCING". It might be a little disgusting, but he isn't worried. Not at all.

Zim leaned so close to the mirror he was nearly pressing his face against it. His hands worked the little black bowtie shakily and slowly, moving the ties just like the Internet page had said. When he pulled it tight, it closed around one finger, came out lopsided and nearly upside now. He scowled, then yelled, whipping the whole thing from where it slid around his collar.

“That’s it, Gir! I’m not going!”

“Awwww,”

“No! It’s stupid and meaningless anyway! An Invader needs no _prom dances_ to invade earth!” Zim hopped from where he’d stood high on a stool, leaning over the sink.

“But I thought it was gonna be fun,” Gir followed him from the bathroom and into the living room. Zim crumbled the bowtie in his hands.

“These prom dances are not _fun,_ Gir, they are _hellish,_ according to most human children. You should KNOW what I’ve been through the past few weeks preparing to ask that filthy DIB to it!” A little self consciously, Zim tossed the tie into the couch and stormed towards the elevator. Err. Toilet. “But now it doesn’t matter, all pointless, I’m not going,”

“But I wanted punch,”

Gir climbed after him and they descended into the bowels of the base. Zim fidgeted with the cuffs of his tux. _What a waste of human monies,_ he thought bitterly. He’d gone out of his way to find the finest tailor in town to get fitted for this terrible man suit, and now he wasn’t even going to get to use it! And it had been such a horrible experience getting the damn thing. The tailor wouldn’t stop going on about how _“cute”_ he looked and how _“small”_ he was, and when his human mother would be there to pick him up and pay for the thing. Zim had plans to blow the place up after the prom was over, but, if he wasn’t going maybe he could shift those plans to that evening…

In the surface of the elevators glass, his reflection simmered. What a shame, really, it all looked so nice on him….

_Didn’t it?_

He stared at his boots (all the dress shoes had been far too uncomfortable) and picked at the cuffs again. He rarely wore anything out of uniform, and seeing himself in human clothes just sent a spike of anxiety through him. How could _he_ tell if it looked right or not? Now technically, his ego outshined any self doubts, usually. Proms were terribly important for human courting it seemed, however, and it was of utmost importance he looked _impeccable._ He began to tap his foot. Gir was drooling beside him. Would the Dib _also_ be wearing a tuxedo? That was how it went, right? … But no! He wasn’t going any longer!

Zim cleared his throat, glanced up, “Computer! Has the Dib-human left his house yet?”

“ _Human Dib Membrane left his house approximately forty-three minutes ago,_ ”

Which meant he’d arrived at the skool some thirty minutes ago… Which meant Dib had arrived early… For what? _Probably to scheme up some plot to DESTROY me._

_Or perhaps he is also nervous…_ Zim twisted the hem of his coat, then shook his head, yanking his hands away.

“It doesn’t matter!” He announced to no one. Gir leapt to attention and looked up at him.

“Awww, Master but isn’t Mary gonna be sa-”

“I said it _doesn’t matter,_ Gir! Now, Computer. Remind your master of the hideous _symptoms_ of _“prom anxiety”,_ ” he made exaggerated air quotes as the elevator opened, led him into the main room of his base. Surrounded by monitors, some detailing projects of doom in progress, others of the virus-infected computer games Gir had found and downloaded, the room was alight with blues, greens, purple, and a mess of others. The computer groaned.

  
_“According to Internet research, most humans are very anxious on their prom nights. Symptoms for prom might include sweaty palms, nausea, vomiting, immense social anxiety, gas-_ ”

The list ran on. Zim’s foot tapping had started a sort of frantic rhythm. Gir made circles around him. 

“So it is normal to feel absolutely NAUSEOUS with TERROR?”

“ _Yes._ ”

But that wasn’t _normal_ for an Irken. Zim had tugged off his gloves, chewing on a thumbnail. “Computer!”

“ _What now?”_

“What are the next steps in human courting after this _“prom”_?”

“ _I don’t know,_ ” 

“What do you mean you _don’t know_?”

A monitor lowered itself from the ceiling and blinked to life, “ _This question requires too much context and other stupid details. But here,”_ The screen was a list Zim had earlier made for a project titled: OWNERSHIP OF THE DIB

_COURT THE DIB_

_TAKE THE DIB TO “PROM”_

_LEARN TO DANCE_

_LEARN HUMANS FAVORITE EARTH FOODS_

_COURT HUMAN WITH COURSE-SAGE_

_ACQUIRE HUMANS TRUST AND DESIRES AND CLAIM FULL OWNERSHIP OF THE HUMAN_

And that was it. The list wasn’t even numbered. Zim threw his arms out, “This is not _helpful_ computer!”

“ _You wrote it,”_ the computer snapped. Zim huffed. “ _If you are so concerned, then don’t go.”_

“Don’t tell me what to do! I’ll go if I please! Do you doubt Zim can court the Dib-human?!”

“ _Yes.”_

“Are you gonna daaaance with Mary, Master?” Gir asked suddenly, grabbing his hand and jerking him into a circle. “Like thiiiiis? And like _thiiiiiiiiiiiis_ -” Gir grabbed him around the waist and dipped him so low his wig slid off and his antennae brushed the floor.

“Let GO OF ME AT ONCE, GIR,”

Gir did and Zim fell onto his back. The robot leaned over him,“And Mary’s gonna say, _ohhhhh Master you’re sooo handddddsoooooome and preeeettyyy, lemme just- kiss you-”_ Gir tried to lean in and Zim shrieked, snatching either side of his oversized dog head with PAK legs, holding him high, far, far away from him. 

“Don’t EVER try to kiss me, Gir!

 _Although…_ Kissing was a vital human ritual. It was disgusting and putrid and evil, however, if that was what it took to seize the human’s filthy heart... If the prom had to be the first step to that, then he would have to be prepared to do it. An Invader feared nothing. Not even courting rituals. Not even _kissing._ Still, Zim shuddered.

_“Are you going?”_ The computer asked.

“None of your _business,_ computer,” Zim muttered, lifting up the wig and shoving it back on. He strode over to a mirror.

The suit was black, and beneath it the dress shirt he’d chosen was a deep fuschia. It matched his eyes but of course, no one would notice if he had on those stupid contacts. _The Dib would notice…_ The thought made him blush for some reason, and he scowled. He’d ironed the shirt and coat meticulously that morning, had checked the jacket frantically for frayed ends or stains. All this worrying and he knew, somewhere, he looked just fine. Better than that. All he was missing was his bowtie… Black and faintly spattered with tiny, deep purple sequins. He loved the way the light caught it.

_“Master,”_

“ _What?!”_ Zim whipped around, snarling, and found two robot arms descending from the ceiling, one gripping the bowtie he’d thrown onto the couch upstairs. He stiffened as the computer ordered he sit still as an arm extended from the ceiling. It held one of his stiff, knobby shoulders in place, carefully threw the bow tie around the collar and made it into a dainty, symmetrical bow. 

“ _You were tying it wrong_ ,”

“No I wasn’t!”

“ _The prom begins in six minutes and forty-three seconds_ ,”

Zim’s eyes went wide, instantly forgetting the insult. “It’s against prom code to be late! Gir! Where did you put the, ehh… _Core-sausage_ thingy?”

“In the trash!”

“WHAT!”

“Just KIDDING! I put it where you said to put it, duh,” 

“And where did I _order_ you to put it?”

“Ummmm,”

“Gir,”

“UMMMMMM,”

“GIR WHERE IS THE CORE-SAGE? IT IS NECESSARY FOR MY COURTING OF THE DIB-HUMAN!”

“It’s- IT’S-!! IT’S... upstairs.”

Zim ran for the elevator.

  
  


Just over six minutes later and Zim was pacing in front of the entrance to the gym. He’d just barely caught his breath, smoothed out his jacket, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He’d ordered Gir to stay home to prevent him from ruining anything, but now he wished for just a little encouragement…

He scoffed. He had himself, a brilliant Irken genius enacting his greatest plan _ever._ What was there to be afraid of?

Zim went to the double doors and shoved them open.

The gymnasium was decked out with moldy streamers and balloons seemingly only half pumped with air. They drifted into the rafters or float down towards the bottom where high heels made them pop loudly. _HAPPY PROM_ read a banner at the end of the massive room, stretching across most of it.

The room was full of students, seemingly the entire student body. He scowled… It smelled like sweat in here. He made himself straighten and marched in.

Torque Smacky was with some blonde Zim knew thought he was funny, for some reason, even though he wasn’t, he was evil, but whatever. Zim also knew that Dib used to act all sweaty and weird and fidgety when he spoke to her… It’d been annoying. And Zim had hated it.

He saw Zita, and Gretchen together. Keef waved wildly at him from the snack table and Zim looked pointedly away. The dance floor was marked with colored duct tape before a raised wooden stage, and upon that, a band…

Zim froze when he saw them. 

The school’s budget must not have included a living, breathing band, because in place of one stood stiff, tattered animatronics… The ones from that horrible pizza place Gir loved so much. A tingle of fear crawled up his spine as one tilted on his axis to make direct, horrible eye contact with him. Zim gasped and stumbled backwards in terror. Was he allowed a weapon to the school dance? Miss Bitters had confiscated so many of his weapons in the past… In fact, as he turned on his heel he saw her shadow, long and unnatural on the sidelines. Her eyes glowed, green like an Earth-feline, and he shuddered again. He’d forgotten about the chaperone rule. Zim gritted his teeth. How on _IRK_ was he supposed to properly court the Dib-human if he was constantly being watched? 

“Uh, hey, Zim,” A voice, behind him made him spin. He pointed accusingly at Dib, who instantly pulled back from where he approached.

  
“DIB-FILTH. You are LATE. My disappointment in your abilities as a date already flounder, human,”

“Um,” Dib looked dead pan, casting a sidelong glance at the cracked clock behind a metal grate on the gym wall, “actually, you’re the one late. It’s nearly -”

“NONSENSE. The clock is wrong. Now,” he dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved the little corsage, tucked safely in it’s plastic container. 

“Oh,” Dib blinked at it. Zim held out his hand expectantly. “What… Do you want me to-”

“Ugh,” Zim muttered impatiently, and snatched Dib’s right hand, “ _Obviously,_ it is your course-sage, now hold still, Earth-pig.”

“You bought me a course-... A corsage?” 

“ _Duh,_ ” Zim slid it onto Dib’s wrist. It fit perfectly. Zim clasped his fingers together, smiling proudly. There was a heat in his cheeks he wasn’t quite familiar with and a fluttering in his spooch he didn’t like, but he’d read that human courting usually went this way. Of course, he wasn’t human, would never be, would never feel what they felt, he was sure of this, he told himself it constantly, _however…_ He understood this… _Anxiety_ … Was natural. And primitive. Zim also understood why filthy romance had been bred out of Irken’s, wiped from their PAKs. It seemed to be more of a hindrance than anything else. _Then why am I indulging in-_ No, he wouldn’t ask that, he was Zim, he could do whatever he wanted. He cleared his throat, looked up at Dib, finally took in how the human was dressed. A plain black suit, white dress shirt, fine little bowtie. A watch that looked shiny and silvery. He’d taken the time to even iron the thing out. Dib’s tie didn’t glitter like Zim’s did when the light caught it, but he did not look as filthy as he usually did. In fact, the suit clung to his long, lanky frame quite well. There was a word for this… 

Gir might’ve said _pretty_ or _handsome._ Zim swallowed. Humans were neither things, but the Dib-human seemed to be an exception to the rule. 

“Um,” Dib looked aside, blushing.

“What is it, human?” But Zim had an idea as to what was wrong. He was blushing, too, mentally ordering his PAK to make it stop.

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and Zim bristled instantly.

“Stop it! You’ll smother it! The course-sage!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Dib yanked his hands out again, rubbed anxiously at his arm.

Zim scoffed, arms crossed. The music in this place was terrible and it seemed the A/C was still broken. It was hot, sweaty, and smelled like human gym socks. Zim was realizing quickly that he was going to hate this, already somewhat hated it. 

“You, uh, I’m surprised you’re not wearing your uniform,”

“What?” He snapped his gaze back to the human. He hadn’t noticed he’d been staring. Zim shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, this _prom_ had a dress code, as you said-”

“I didn’t say that-”

“I couldn’t possibly appear dressed as I wanted to! So I had to purchase this horrible man suit.” Zim peered down at himself. He didn’t hate the outfit at all. “I had it tailored just for me,” he grinned, despite himself.

“I see,” Dib nodded thoughtfully. “It, uh. It’s nice-”

“What-”

“It’s just nice to see you-... wearing something different I guess!” Dib was rubbing the back of his neck, looking back and forth from Zim to a point of empty space. “It looks nice on you.”

The heat was spreading, getting hotter in his face. Was this a headache? 

Zim opened his mouth, sputtered for a moment, then snapped, “Of course it does, human, now come on!” He snatched Dib’s wrist and dragged him away. 

In his readings of proms, he’d learned of _many_ things _._ There was dancing, of course, then pictures (ew), dee-jays (whatever that was) or bands, and then, his favorite part, refreshments. Along the wall of the gymnasium were several long, fold out tables had been set up, decorated with plastic, flimsy yellow table cloth. He dragged Dib to it.

Zim snatched up a cup. “Now serve Zim punch,”

Dib rolled his eyes. “You’re closer to the punch bowl than I am-”

“I have gifted the Dib with the core-sage, now do your part, human!”

“That’s not how- okay whatever. Fine,” Dib brushed past him while Zim placed claws on his hips. Yes, this was all going swimmingly.

“Oh, Zim,” Gretchen, dressed in a long turquoise dress, appeared beside him. “You look pretty cute,”

Zim glared, “ _Cute?”_ he hissed. “Zim is not _cute,_ human, this is _formal attire._ There is nothing _cute_ about it,”

“Yeah,” she grinned, looking unconvinced, “well, anyway, did you end up asking Dib like you said you would?” She glanced around him, in search for the human.

“Of _course_ Zim did,” he clapped his hands, once, “HUMAN!”

“ _What_?” Dib grumbled behind him, turning with two cups of punch. Upon seeing Gretchen, he flushed, looked aside.

“Aw, I’m happy for you two,”

“Don’t be,” Zim hissed.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Dib came forward, standing beside him, and Zim reached up and yanked him drink from him. 

“Everyone’s been wondering when you’d two finally ask each other out,”

“Yeah,” Dib muttered again, looking aside with a wild, horrified look in his eye. Zim rolled his eyes. “Zim, uh, mentioned you’d told him, I guess? To ask me?” He looked embarrassed and a little hurt. Gretchen tilted her head, glanced at Zim.

“That’s what he said?” She asked, then laughed, looking uncomfortable herself, “Uh, that’s a little funny.”

“Why?”

Zim started, “I think that’s enou-”

“Well, um. You see, a few weeks back, he stopped me in the hall to ask about the prom. He’d brought this huge handful of flyers for the prom and had torn them up.” She laughed again, scratching her cheek, “actually the conversation diverged to a storage closet he locked me in.”

“Zim locked you in a storage closet!” 

“LIES! These are lies, human, ignore the filthy Earth-girl-” but Dib didn’t appear to be listening.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time!” She waved her hands, laughing, “But, anyway, he wanted to know how one went about asking someone on a date. I think he was just… Really nervous… Don’t be embarrassed, Zim! Everyone’s nervous for their first prom! It only happens once,”

Zim was twitching with anger.

Gretchen giggled again. “Anyway… I mean, I didn’t ever mention your name but I guess I should've known he was referring to you when he asked! I just told him if there was some girl he liked, he should maybe buy her some flowers, or maybe a teddy bear and ask really nicely. Not yell, like he usually does. But he just looked at me funny and said,” she made air quotes and attempted a nasally Zim-like voice, “ _I’m not asking some gross girl-human,”_

“That is NOT HOW ZIM SOUNDS!”

Beside him, Dib laughed, “It didn’t exactly go that way,”

Zim shoved himself in front of the human, “Yes it went far better than that, now leave us!” 

Gretchen waved at Dib as she turned, “You guys have fun!”

“We _won’t!_ ” Zim shouted.

“Zim, relax,” Dib said behind him. “She’s just trying to be nice-”

“Well it _isn’t_ nice!” Zim growled. He didn’t need the human to know he’d even bothered asking her about prom. Even all of the information his computer had given him on prom, dates, courting had felt insufficient. He needed advice from someone who knew about human rituals best. He wasn’t sure if Gretchen qualified for that, but, she’d helped. He hadn’t brought Dib flowers but, curing him of his swollen eye issue had felt sufficient enough to him at the moment. _Now_ if he could just kill the Torque-beast, perhaps Dib would be entirely convinced of his abilities as a mate. _In due time…_

“You didn’t have to lock her in a closet, though-”

Zim waved him off, “That is simply how interrogations go, human, do not fret over it. I let her out eventually.” A beat of silence. Dib was grinning at him.

“You were that nervous, huh?”

  
Zim started, “NO! Zim was not _nervous!_ I simply needed… Advice… Of sorts from a fellow human creature. Your internet data lacks in many places as far as consistent advice goes.”

“You didn’t bring me flowers,”

“Ugh,” Zim looked away in disgust, “This is exhausting. I tire of your presence, human” 

At that, Dib raised a brow at him, “I don’t know, Zim, you asked me to prom. I don’t think you’ve ever really _tired_ of my presence,”

That was far more confident than what he would have expected from the Dib. In truth, Zim was only confident in Dib’s _lack_ of it. At least as far as this... _Alliance_ went. If Dib was shy, awkward, and all beet-red, then Zim won. But now, making eye contact with him, watching the Dib smile gently down at him, Zim sputtered, looked aside.

  
“Silence! This is not true at all,” he hissed, “and quit looking at me,”

“Alright, alright,” Dib raised two hands in surrender, looking up at the dance floor ahead of them… Zim was looking intently at the clock on the wall, a distraction. But he could feel Dib’s eyes wandering back to him, and he gritted his teeth. This was hard. Harder than he expected. And he’d been so wrapped up in preparing for this _prom_ that he hadn’t brought anything else for him to do! Looking around, he saw he could have removed all the exits and locked all of the students in here to die slowly, or perhaps, poison the punch bowl or some of the snacks..! So many opportunities, so many chances for at least the domination of _hi-skool_ and yet Zim had been so caught up in what? Icky _feelings_ ? Worrying about how shiny his _shoes_ were? If the black on his gloves clashed at all with his shirt? If Dib would like a blue flower or perhaps prefer a vibrant orange one because he’d worn an orange shirt _once_?

His face reddened in a mixture of embarrassment, shame, and anger.

He hated Dib. He hated looking at Dib, being looked at by Dib, being known by him, touching him, his smell, his face, his skin, his-

Seconds passed, and he realized Dib was growing uncomfortable beside him, shifting from left to right. _Good,_ Zim thought. He let the silence grow, stretch, revelled as more people joined the dance floor ahead of them as Zim stood, arms crossed and Dib looked at him then opened his mouth, coughed, then said, finally, “Uh, Zim-”

“WHAT, VILE-EARTH MONKEY?”

Dib jumped at the sudden outburst, then narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to dance, or what?”

“What?!” Zim hissed, then looked at the dance floor and recalled where they were. Dancing meant touching. “Of course not!” 

Dib blinked, surprised. “O-oh-”

  
“HA! I have fooled you with my perfect imitation of your _human sarcasm._ Zim will dance with the Dib if you so wish it,” he tossed his cup, half full, over his shoulder. It splattered against the gymnasium wall.

“That imitation was horrible-”

Zim yanked Dib by his hand, made him drop his cup, and dragged him to the dance floor. People were staring, snickering, whispering, but Zim ignored them. He’d done plenty of research into this _“dancing”_ and he knew it quite well now. He’d show them all of their moves were inferior, pathetic, and best of all PITIFUL…. And they would wish, yes they would _die_ to have him as a partner-date-thingy. _But none of your are worthy for ZIM anyway._ The thought made him grin… Then his grin wavered. Because if none of _them_ , not another human on this vile planet was worthy, and if Zim was here _with_ the Dib… Then that meant….

Behind him, Dib stammered, “We don’t have, to uh, dance, you know, Zim, if you don’t-” Almost thankful for the break in his thoughts, Zim spun on Dib suddenly, making the human stop to keep from crashing into him.

“Listen, Dib-smelly, Zim didn’t research your human dancing rituals for six hours today for _nothing_. You will dance with Zim, understand?” He jabbed a finger into Dib’s chest, leaning up as high as he could… Reaching just above Dib’s shoulders. “Now give me your inferior, meat hand,”

“Wait. Are you.. Taller tonight?” Dib asked suddenly. Zim blinked.

“I-”

“Are you wearing _heels_?”

“Zim is not-”

  
Dib stepped back and looked at Zim’s shoes. “You’re wearing heels!”

He was. It added three inches to his height of four foot, six inches. “Shut up!” He grabbed Dib’s hand and yanked him closer. Their hands clasped, Zim noted the faint trembling there, and the fact that he was sweating. Disgusting, and a sign of a number of human illnesses, mental, emotional, _and_ physical. He wanted to shudder. What was he _doing_ ? Just touching the Dib-human might allow him to contract a number of terrible diseases… _Well, that’s what the gloves are for._ Zim cleared his throat.

He drew Dib somehow closer.

In Invader academy, Zim had excelled at most of his classes. Flight training, hand to hand combat, mecha-piloting, the list would stretch around the skool. He often twisted rules to fit his own needs and desires, but even so. In his research with human dancing, although he thought it looked _stupid_ and a MASSIVE waste of time, Zim felt he understood it quite well. A step here, something else there… Zim was light on his feet, agile, quick. He had to be, having spent so much time in the academy, and really, dancing, he found, was very similar to combat. It lacked blood or gore or explosions and that was a pity, but Zim could manage it. 

This first song was upbeat; Zim preferred that. His thoughts were flying a million a minute and he couldn’t really sit still anyay.

“Who taught you how to dance,” Dib asked, a little breathless. 

“Clearly not _YOU,_ Dib-creature! You are all, ehh, right feet. Pathetic.”

“It’s all left feet,” Dib stumbled, barely missed Zim’s shoe (for the fourth time), “And, so what, most kids don’t really know how to-”

“Unexcusable!” 

He rolled his eyes, “Whatever. You’re not _that_ good anyway.” Suddenly, Dib’s hand was closing tightly over Zim’s, and Dib took the lead. Zim scowled. That wasn't how this was supposed to go! Zim was in charge of this! But Dib was taller, longer, and he dragged him towards him, pressed their bodies flush. Zim nearly lost his balance. Curse this horrible _high heels!_ They made him taller but also as if he were walking on ice. Dib laughed. “You’re not so used to those stupid things, are you?”

“They are not stupid!”

Dib’s grin reached his eyes, a rarity, “No, I guess they’re not. They work on you,”

“Of-... O-of course they do, human. Shut up…” Dib’s laugh was genuine but nervous.

Against his hand, he could feel the human’s pulse. Even through his gloves, thick as they were, the human’s heart rate sped up as he worked hard to look everywhere but at the Irken’s eyes. Zim bristled, antennae twitching beneath his wig. 

“Do not be rude, Dib-filth, look at your superior prom date!” he hissed. Dib jolted, and looked at him. If eye contact could generate electricity, Zim felt there might have been a white spark. He nearly jumped himself. Frantically, he shook his head, “N-Nevermind! Quit looking at Zim!”

“What-” Dib furrowed his brow, “look at you, don’t look-” he was trying to pull away. Zim tightened his grip. “Do you hate this or not?”

He hated the twinge of something serious in Dib’s voice. He hated the heat seeping through his gloves. He hated feeling Dib’s chest against his. “What? No! Of course I- this- arrgh, you! Shut up! Dances are supposed to be silent!”

“Since when!” Dib snapped. The song had changed. Something slower and what might be called _“romantic”_ if their music was not sung by soulless, evil _animatronics._ The lights dimmed further, somehow, and the multicolored ones favored reds and pinks suddenly. Those without dates wandered from the dance floor. Zim caught notice of the humans around him. Hands on shoulders, or on hips…. Slow swaying… Heads falling onto shoulders… Eyes closed… Yess, this was the vital _slow dancing_ portion of the prom. Very important. Zim straightened to attention.

“Dib-human!!” He hissed in a whisper. “Grab my hips,”

“ _What?”_

“I said grab my hips, you insolent fool!” 

Dib’s hands felt like lead, and it was hot, too hot and the room felt like it was spinning, but this had to go well and he had to do it right. With the heels, he could hold Dib’s shoulders without practically dangling from him. 

Against him, Dib cringed, “You’re stabbing me with your fucking, bird talons Zim, quit it!”

Zim loosened his grasp. The word _sorry_ almost escaped his lips, but he held it back. Irkens never apologized. “Perhaps if you were not so stupidly, _tall_ then I wouldn’t have to hold you like this!” 

Dib rolled his eyes. “It isn’t my fault you missed puberty,”

“Of- of _course_ Zim missed-” 

“Will you two shut _up_ ?” Someone hissed in a whisper behind them and they both clamped their mouths shut. They ignored each other’s glares but kept close. Zim tried to focus on the lights, the reds, the purples (his favorite), perhaps on how terrible the punch had been… Back at home, chances were Gir was tearing up the fridge or ordering take out senselessly over the phone. He gritted his teeth at the thought of having to come home to _that_ mess…

And all the while, the music continued and Zim kept with Dib’s pace, gentle, slow. 

It made him feel tired… It made him feel almost comfortable… Zim leaned forward. Tentatively, he let himself lean a check against Dib’s chest. Dib was rigid as a steel rod, and this made his antennae, pressed against his skull, twitch wildly. The human couldn’t be this nervous, also! But if he were too confident, Zim would be realized for the anxious wreck that he was! 

A second passed, and Dib let out a sigh. Some of the tension flooded out. Zim’s fingers dug into the front of Dib’s suit, clutching tight. 

“You sure are, uh, tense,” Dib said softly. His breath was a puff of warmth on Zim’s skin. He jumped a bit. “Sorry,”

“Be quiet, human,” Zim muttered against him. “You talk too much.” Dib cleared his throat as if to retort, then chose otherwise. _Thank Irk._ Zim could feel how he wanted to tremble but he held it back, and it only made him feel stiffer. He held Dib a bit tighter. He closed his eyes- NO, that was too vulnerable, he pulled away, just a bit, stared at the buttons on the human’s jacket. He counted them. There were no tattered threads on this shirt, no stains, nothing. Perhaps it was brand new. Had he agonized over how to dress tonight as Zim had? One of Dib’s hands, suddenly, began reaching up to the middle of Zim’s back, just beneath his PAK. There, it enveloped almost all of his waist. He shuddered. 

“Is this fine?” Dib whispered.

Zim ignored the question. He listened to the human sigh, irritated. _Of course it’s fine,_ he wanted to say, but even that sounded wrong. He leaned forward, if only because he was feeling a little sick. Maybe because his teeth were set so tight, maybe because his brow had been furrowed since they’d closed so much space between them. Dib smelled like some sort of Earth spice and fruity gum. The latter half was sweet and it made him lean further in, until his head was against his chest again. Dib leaned his chin against the top of Zim’s head. He didn’t jump this time, if only because he was afraid to break the human’s jaw. Now he was still, horrified and blushing madly. He wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to lean in, wanted to reax, to let go of that tension, but then, if he did that, then his defenses would be down, then Dib could grab him and-

“Relax,” Dib’s voice, gentle, came above him. Had this stupid wig been off, Zim would feel his breath against his antennae, feel it’s heat, and he shuddered again. “This isn’t so bad… Are you having fun?”

Zim couldn’t answer. His throat felt tight. The answer was…. It was…

Dib pressed a kiss to the top of Zim’s head and it was wet, soft, fleeting. He wanted another one. He didn’t want to be touched ever again. How would a kiss feel closer to his mouth? 

He looked up at Dib with big eyes. Mouth slightly open. Silent. Dib looked back down at him, equally surprised… Then his expression softened, and he smiled.

He might’ve said something, then. 

Zim pressed two hands against the middle of Dib’s chest and shoved, hard. He hopped backwards, suddenly, tripping on the train of a girl’s dress. Scrambling for his balance, he grabbed at the dress and threw them both down again. The girl shrieked, shouted some expletives at him. He frantically got to his feet, and announced, overloud, “I MUST LEAVE, IMMEDIATELY.” All the while Dib stared at him, wide eyed. Zim spun and fled the room.

  
  


In the hallway, the click of his heels was too loud. Zim trudged forward with no real plan of going anywhere in particular. The classrooms were dark, and every other green, fluorescent light was off. His breath came quickly, his fists clenched at his sides. He kept twisting down corridors until he couldn’t hear the thrum of life or the beat of the music. With no one around, Zim yanked off his wig, let a PAK leg extend and temporarily hide it while his fingers rushed to brush and twist anxiously at an antenna. Wretched, terrible prom and it’s awful rituals of sticky _feelings._ Dancing and bodies pressed close. _Dib_ being close. And _WHY_ were human bodies so _warm?_ What was up with _that_? Didn’t they overheat?

Zim shook his head. He knew this would be a mistake. To think he’d been the one to initiate it! A fact he’d near instantly regretted and one he’d tried to reverse since it happened. But every time the moment arose and Zim would err to the side of caution, Dib would glance up and say in a stupidly humble voice, “ _You know, Zim, if- if you don’t wanna go, you don’t_ have _to-_ ” But Zim would always cut him off, because there could be no dents in his armor, and Dib couldn’t know he’d been sick with worry over this stupid gathering since Dib had agreed. Oh, what a horrible thing to waste valuable brain power over! He tugged at his antennae, _hard_ , hard enough to bring his attention away from his thoughts and realize he was deep within the skool.

Zim slowed to a stop, looked around himself. He was somewhere near Algebra One and home room. The cafeteria was just around the corner… Zim marched to it, found the wide, double doors and shoved his palms against it. They flung open, revealing a wide, dark room, black shadows to indicate where the tables were. Silent, cool. _Empty._ He slipped in.

He wanted to go home, return to his base but then, that would mean prom was over. And even though he’d left the gym, the prom was still going, and as long as he remained on campus, he’d still be able to go back… _But I can’t go back! I don’t want to! It’s stinky and horrible and filthy in there!_ And the _Dib_ was waiting for him there…

Zim slipped behind a fold up table, slid down and drew his knees to his chest. A twinge of something twisted inside of him. The Dib might still be looking dumbfounded in the middle of the dance floor. Alone. Well, fine! Victory for Zim!

He’d have no date and look like a fool! Yes, Zim had won! And maybe he’d stormed out, and be furious and they could go back to the way things were. Zim would prefer that. He imagined Dib leaving now, angry and hurt, and he’d plan how to get at him… Yes, he’d need to be prepared for that… Dib would go home, take off that stupid suit, and then yank off the course-sausage. _Corsage. Whatever._

Then Dib would maybe throw it down…

Stomp on it…

Tear it to pieces…

Throw it away…..

The idea made him wildly uncomfortable. He’d bought it _for_ Dib. Had agonized over how it should look. A fine blue flower, accented with some little white one’s called _baby’s breath_ (stupid name), with some white shiny ribbon and little bits of blue lace… He’d brought it home, placed it in the fridge as per instructed and lectured Gir for thirty minutes on how it was NOT a snack and NOT to be touched. He’d seen so many girl-humans wearing their own at the dance and been proud he’d known to get it. Now the Dib human would be angry Zim had left him, and he’d throw out the corsage, the evidence of Zim’s title as _his_ prom date, and all that worrying would be for naught. 

Yet how could he go back? And bear for another minute Dib looking at him with that gentle look in his eyes? The smiling, the hand touching, it was all too much! He hated it! But his fingers itched to grab Dib’s hand and do- well, he didn’t know! Hand-holding, perhaps? Dib had far too many fingers and too big of a palm but yet, he could make it work! It didn’t have to be a _romantic_ gesture it could be, perhaps… Research! Yes, _that_ , it could be research. He could learn how, say, an Irken hand could crush a human’s. But he wouldn’t crush Dib’s. He couldn’t pathetically attempt to stop his plans if Dib’s hands were crushed to smithereens… 

Zim suddenly felt like he was spinning again, as he had on the dance floor earlier. He brought his hands up to his face and held them there. His PAK urged other thoughts of world domination, violence, and other such comforts… But then the lights on the Dib-thing’s face sprung to mind, his chest so close to Zim’s. If only his heels had been taller, then he could have leaned forward and…. And….

Zim dragged claws down his face, tugged at his eyelids and groaned a long, terrible groan. This was just _awful_. If he’d known human dates were so cursed, he would never have tried it. This was everything against his code as an Invader. Why couldn’t he leave? Maybe leave the whole planet behind while he was at it, not abandon his mission just step back. How long would it take to build a massive death ray? Stand at a safe distance, perhaps on the moon, blow the Earth to bits, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the Dib’s stupid face from there.

Imagining himself amongst the rubble of a pathetically ruined Earth brought little joy to his face, for once. Zim’s shoulders felt heavy.

_This is pathetic,_ he thought of himself, suddenly. _How can you just_ sit _here while everyone else stays with their date, dancing and all of that disgusting business?!_ Zim clenched his fists. He had to go back. He would hate it, but he had to finish tonight. Then by morning, he could figure out what to do next about the Dib human. He couldn’t destroy him and he certainly couldn’t go back to how things had once been. Dib knew too much. _Zim_ knew too much. No. He had to go back.

He shoved his wig back on and got to his feet, marching back towards the double doors, down the halls, back towards the gym. There, he threw open the doors, caught the attention of several students as he strode forward. He looked out on the dance floor, peered around other students, shoved someone aside… No Dib human. He grumbled. Where had he gone off to? The snack tables were busy wth students but he caught no sight of the Dib’s stupid hair or the sheen of over-sized glasses.

Zim stormed over to the punch bowl and tapped the back of a girl standing before him.

“Human girl!” Zim growled. When the girl (Zita, from class) turned, she squinted down at him. “Where is the Dib-human?”  


“Oh, Zim. I thought someone had brought their little brother or something. Anyway. Man, you just ditched him. That was a little uncool-”

“Shut up! Where has he gone?”

“He left,”

“What!” The corsage! He was probably destroying it right now! “Where! Which way did he go?!”

“Well, there’s only one exit, so,” she pointed to the double doors, the very ones Zim had just flung himself through, and he ran for them again, boots clacking against the floor.

In the corridors again, Zim ran for the front entrance and nearly toppled down the cement steps outside. Staggering to his feet, he looked wildly around. It’d gotten quite dark since he’d arrived less than an hour earlier. The sky had taken on a sharp, bloody orange color and darkness was setting in in half of the sky. The street lights were overbright white and orange. The parking lot was packed with cars, all silent… He was beginning to feel panic settle in when he heard, distant, the jingle of car keys. Far ahead, he spotted Dib, trudging through the sea of vehicles. Zim ran after him.

“Human! Hey! Wait! Zim did not give you leave of the prom!” Dib’s hands were shoved into his pockets and his shoulders were slumped as though he were carrying a heavy weight. Upon hearing Zim’s voice, he froze midstep. Dib turned.

“Zim! Where did-” he stopped short, glared at him as Zim marched forward. “What the hell do you want now?” 

He stopped just before him, “You are not the least bit _concerned_ as to where your prom date’s _been_?”

Dib laughed bitterly, “I think I could care less where you ran off to!” He began to turn away again.

“Enough! Where are you going?!”

“I’m going home-”

“Why!? The Prom is not over-”

“Because this was stupid, that’s why.”

“ _Stupid_ ?! Have you forgotten who chose _you_ amongst a SEA of flesh meat bags to this prom!?”

“Ohh, I haven’t forgotten Zim, thank you,” Dib was tugging out his car keys now. Zim grabbed his wrist, and the human immediately jerked his hand away. “Will you _quit_ it!”

“You can’t leave yet, human-”

“Why _not?!_ What the hell do you want from me, Zim?”

Zim glanced around them, “I… I wanted to do the stupid human-dance-thing with you!”

Dib glared down at him. “You _left_ ,”

“Yes, well, now Zim is back, so can weee-” he gestured to the skool behind them. And offered his best, winning grin. 

Deadpan, “No,”

Zim made a strangled sound of anger. “Why _not_?” 

“Because I’m not- I’m not going back in there, with everyone staring after you just stormed out and left! No way-”

“It doesn’t matter what your intolerable peers think of you-”

“What about what _I_ think, Zim?” He pressed a hand against his chest.

Zim stared, squinting one eye harder than the other. His voice came out low. “... And what do you think, human?”

“I think I wish I’d never said yes to your stupid prom date offer,”

“Liar-”

“I should’ve laughed in your face and told you no,-”

“YOU LIE-”

“-because you’re the absolute _worst_ date anyone could have, you _insufferable_ _insect!”_ And with one smooth, fluid motion Dib reached for his wrist, snatched the corsage. He ripped it off. Zim’s eyes widened in horror as he hurled it at him, and it thumped uselessly against his forehead, then fell at his feet.

“You!” His PAK legs activated, and he shot forward, “You can’t- _THE CORE-SAGE IS FOR YOU NOW TAKE IT BACK-”_ He snagged Dib’s jacket into a death grip, shoving him into his car and pinning him there.

  
“Will you get _off_ of me?!”

“Take it back!”

“No!”

“You agreed to go with Zim!”

“Get off of me or I’ll rip those things out of you!

“Just _try it,_ human,” Zim hissed back. “Now return to the dance thing with Zim!”

“No! You don’t even know why I’m pissed off!”

“Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s stupid!”

Dib’s clenched fists pushed hard against Zim but the Irken wouldn’t budge. “Will you _let go of me!?”_

The anger clashed so violently with the way Dib had looked at him earlier that it suddenly made his chest twist and Zim shoved _himself_ away. “Fine! What are the apparent _qualms_ you have with your superior date?!”

Dib huffed, sliding to the left on the car, further from him. “Well first of all, you left me all alone in there, but we’ve already established that. That was-... it-...” Dib chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking aside. A weak sort of look spread into his eyes, one Zim thought he understood but chose to ignore. “It’s annoying,” he said finally, “so I’m angry about that. But, God, this entire night! No, the entire week you’ve been off the fucking fritz!”

Zim squinted at him, “What is this _“FRITZ”?”_

“You’ve been so on _edge_ lately, Zim, haven’t you noticed? I guess that’s somewhat normal with you, but- you’ve been so fucking paranoid, you’ve called me twice every night- you called me at two in the morning yesterday and you just yelled at me and I didn’t understand a word you said! You’re so caught up in whatever the hells going on in your head, Zim! You don’t even realize how much balled up nervous energy you have!” 

Zim averted his glare, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, human-”

“Yes you do!”

“ _No,_ I _don’t_ -”

“ _YES,_ you-”

“FINE! THEN WHAT’S IT TO YOU, HUMAN!?”

Dib made inarticulate noises of anger. “Zim, you’re- YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY DATE TONIGHT! And you’re acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass or something which granted, again, is _normal_ but God, you’re a _dick_ when you’re nervous!”

“Z-Zim does not-” This wasn’t working, in fact, this was going quite terribly. The opposite of how Zim had imagined it. He’d taken several clicking steps backwards, breathing hard, and in doing so, he stepped on the corsage. 

“God, this is just a waste of both our time,”

“I-” his head hurt, badly, and the anger, overpowering his PAK, was fading off to exhaustion. Zim knew well how to be angry, how to be endlessly furious but this felt so much different than even their most heated fights. Those usually included fists and clawing. This was so… _Wordy_ . It hurt. “I-if Zim thought this was a waste then why would _I_ have asked you-”

“Yeah, and you’ve been trying to _un_ -ask me for weeks now! Yesterday, you came to ask me if I was going to prom and if I’d changed my mind! And when I told you I hadn’t you got angry! What, Zim, don’t look so stupid, did you think I didn’t notice! And you keep getting angry at me when I touch you! Why did you ask me in the first place! Why did you kiss me that afternoon? Why-” Dib suddenly dragged hands through his hair, sending it into disarray, “What the _fuck_ is going on!? Do you- do you _like_ me? Like- _like, like_ me? Why the hell do you like _me_ anyway, Zim..!?”

“Do I,” Zim was getting lost. He blinked, one eye squinted, “ _Like… Like…._ Zim does not understan-”

Dib groaned, “You don’t even know what those words really mean! You said, when you kissed me, you knew what it meant, what that would, you know, _entail_ , but you don’t act like it! Not at all! And okay, _fine,_ I get it, we’re enemies, I’m supposed to expose you for the menace you are, and you’re supposed to wanna wipe out my species, but, Zim, you- we-... I don’t… Know what you want… What do you want?” He dropped his arms at his sides helplessly. Zim’s fingers were clasped together. He looked aside, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you ungrateful Zim is showing your filthy body any sort of _“attraction”-_ ”

The helplessness quickly faded back into anger, “Is THAT what it is, Zim?! Because I wouldn’t ever guess! You left me at the dance alone tonight!”

“What, do you want Zim to say _sorry-_ ”

“YES!”

Zim made a noise in the back of his throat, something between surprise and irritation. “Perhaps it is you, Dib-human, who should also apologize-”

“For _WHAT?!”_

_“_ For wanting so much, human!!” Zim shouted, baring teeth, anger flaring back as he stomped one foot forward. “You want so much from Zim! I cannot give it to you, don’t you understand?! I- these- these filthy, icky- whatever they are, are very- it’s incredibly un-Irken that I should even SPEAK to you like this!”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ve bruised your pride, Zim-”

Zim growled, grabbed his head, “You don’t UNDERSTAND, human! You never do! This is not about _pride_ ! Romance, these- stupid, insipid feelings are not- are not common, among… O-other Irkens. In fact they- they’re …It doesn’t matter! The point is- Zim- Zim cannot- I do not..” The words were scrambled, a wild mess in his head. He didn’t think he could force them out. Dib knew too much about him already, knew of holes in security system, knew how to read enough Irken to bypass his computers, he didn’t need to know anything else. Zim was not weak. His fists tightened. “And yet you wish me to grovel like some human-love pig! Zim is not human! I cannot-.. Zim can’t... do these things..! Y-...Yet…” The words trailed off. He wanted to be angry and insult him but his mind was becoming white noise. Everything felt exhausted and blank. He’d been so frantic lately, and Dib _had_ noticed and now the night was ruined. He felt miserable. Zim sulked and suddenly felt very small. 

In front of him, Dib’s anger was also fading off to something equally tired. He reached into his pocket again and found his keys. Zim stared at his feet. The corsage was grey with dirt, and a footprint had ruined the blue flower. He bent to pick it up. He wanted to be angry at the human for ruining it, but for some reason he couldn't muster up the energy to do so. 

Dib cleared his throat. “Look… I… I wanna go home. I can drive you if you want me to.”

Zim didn’t answer, but when Dib climbed into his car, finally, he opened the passenger seat and crawled in, drawing himself as tightly inward as he could. 

  


The drive was stiflingly silent. He was getting sick of the jacket, the bow tie which felt like it was choking him. Halfway through the car ride and Zim reached up and untied it, half frantically, tossed it onto the ground. He thought of whatever mess Gir might’ve made at the base. He thought of skool, two days away after tonight, a Friday. At least he’d get time to hide deep within his base and not face any of his terrible human peers. He wouldn’t even have to bother with Dib. Chances were, the human wouldn’t attempt to contact him tomorrow or Sunday. He wanted to be relieved, but really his mouth just tasted sour and his head pounded.

The car stopped, finally, screeching to a halt. Dib’s brakes sucked.

“Um. We’re… Here, Zim,”

“Yes, I can see that, Earth-pig,” Zim muttered.

“Okay. Well,” Dib gestured once to the eerily glowing house. Zim didn’t budge. 

He didn’t want the night to end yet. 

The silence returned. He waited for Dib to get angry, to say something he knew how to respond to. Instead, the human was silent. He grabbed the steering wheel tightly, muttered something under his breath. Then he leaned forward, peered out the windshield. 

“It’s… Really nice out tonight,” he said quietly. Zim glanced out the window, once. The sky was wide, spanisve… The stars, endless. Not as bright and not as any as Zim had seen, but it was a clearer night than usual. Without realizing it, Zim’s forehead leaned against the window and he stared up at the sky in homesick wonder. _Irk,_ he wanted to go home and be away from all of this… 

The scenery, the glow of his base, began to shift. He watched the moon drift by, icy white. Humans were obsessed with their moon. They had gods named after it, worshipped it, or most had many, many rotations ago. This was ridiculous and primitive, but Zim found it fascinating, too. He was not aware of many other alien races that loved a distant, useless space rock so badly. Irk had four moons, each one smaller than the last. A Tallest somewhere along the line of reign had blown one up, just to do it, and hey, wait, why was the car moving again? Zim sat up suddenly, jerking his attention to the human.

“What we are doing?”

  
“I just wanna see something. Is that okay?” Dib glanced once at him, awaiting an answer. When Zim didn’t object, he took it as a tentative yes. Zim settled into the seat, anxious, watching the stars for comfort.

Not much later, and they slowed up a dirt road, past the trees that surrounded Dib’s city like tall, black cage bars, past a tourist sign leading to the entrance of a National Park. Dib parked in a first lot before a clutter of trees.

“Come on,” he slipped out and slammed the door shut behind him. Zim threw off his safety belt and scrambled out. His boots struck the grass, wet with dew.

“Wh-... What is this? Where have you taken Zim? What are you planning, human?”

“Relax,” Dib sighed, “it’s just a clearing. You can see the stars better from here. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

 _The stars…_ He’d been to this clearing before. Just ahead the trees broke into a wide, circular clearing that stared up at the sky. It was like looking into a mirror or a big pond. The sky so wide above you… Yes, Zim had been here many times, for precisely the reason Dib had brought him now. He grumbled something under his breath, brow furrowed, surprised at how relieved and… Flattered he actually was.

“Fine. Hold on.” He took off the wig, then the contacts, sick of them, then shut the car door and trudged a safe few feet behind Dib.

In the middle of the clearing, Dib led them to where the grass was softest.

“I like to come out here sometimes,” Dib began, “It’s… Relaxing when I’ve had a shitty day… I never see anyone else out here, I don't know why. The sky’s beautiful here.” He stopped and Zim watched him as he shucked off his coat, then laid it out, like a blanket. “Here.”

Zim glared at it. “Why?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to get wet,”

“It’ll ruin your jacket,”

Dib shrugged. “I can wash it,” He stuffed hands into his pockets. Reluctantly, Zim went forward and sat down on the edge of the jacket. Tentatively, Dib sat down beside him. They didn’t touch, but Zim could sense the heat. He fiddled with the corsage in his hands. Neither of them spoke for a time. Zim drew circles into the flowers largest petal.

“You come out here nearly every Saturday night,” he said, suddenly. Dib started.

“How-”

“I watch you-”

“You _what_?”

“I mean! I-...” Zim frowned, “You do not _own_ this clearing, Dib-beast, Zim enjoys seeing the stars _too._ And Zim is aware you, ehh, come out here. A lot. And I don’t… Leave. When you do. Not always.”

Dib looked like he was trying to formulate some frustrated response to being watched. When a minute passed and he still hadn’t, he looked away, giving up. He sighed, shook his head.

“You… were trying very hard tonight,” Dib said, finally. Zim glanced at him, mouth open. He swallowed and averted his gaze.

“Yes, I was.”

“You’re probably tired.”

“Hmph.”

“Okay. Fine. I’m…. Argh, I’m _sorry._ I’m sorry you were so- so pent up about all of this. It’s new to you, I… I get it, I guess.”

“Foolish human, you could never understand,” 

“I suppose you’re right,” Dib sighed. An inch of the tension in him released with that admission. Zim glanced at him.

“You ruined your corsage, pig-beast,”

Dib frowned, “You were being an asshole,”

“You… Didn’t have to throw it at me, you insolent dirt worm!” 

Dib glared at him for a few moments and Zim looked away to glare at his hands. His fingers tightened around the flower. “Zim, do you want… Whatever this is to be over?”  


“What?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you still… Want to go… _out…_?” The words ground out of him almost painfully, and Zim struggled not to be wildly offended. But then, if he were having to ask the same, he might also sound similarly.

“I don’t... Know…”

“You don’t know?”

Zim shook his head. Dib sighed, leaned back on his hands again. As feelings of uncertainty and terror began to swell up again, Zim averted his attention to the stars once more. Some schmillion light years away, Irk was spinning very, very slowly. The Tallest’s were giving orders and the other Invader’s were doing what Zim should've been doing right now, too. But here he was, sitting on some human’s stupid coat because Dib didn’t want him getting wet, staring up at the sky. Dib’s hand twitched towards his, then paused. 

Zim felt very, very tired.

“It’s fine if you don’t know,”

“But Zim does know,” he said suddenly.

“If you need to slow down, then just say so, Zim…”

Zim went quiet. He hated slow. He wanted to finish his plan, and then-... What? How did human dates end? In his research, it meant no more contact, no more touching, no more anything. Back to enemies and only that. He wasn’t sure he liked that idea anymore...

Dib gestured to the flower. “... Thank you for the, uh… Corsage… Can I see it again?” Zim grumbled something then held it out, looking away. Dib took it carefully. “It’s pretty,” Another grumble. “... I, uh, didn’t think you’d want one. So I didn’t grab you one, though I did think about it, I guess,” He began smoothing out the petals, the ribbon, wiping out the dirt as best he could.

“Zim does not desire your filthy earth fauna. They’re ugly.” But he wouldn’t have minded…

“Can I see your hand?”

“ _Why_?”

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, Zim,” Dib said, gently. The Irken glared at him, chin in one hand. He felt… Well, calmer, he supposed. In a way. It was so much quieter over here. He held out his hand, didn’t watch what the Dib was doing. Dib carefully took his wrist and held his hand for a moment. He ran a thumb over the middle of Zim’s gloved palm, moved in towards his wrist… Zim allowed himself, finally, to close his eyes. Despite his gloves, the feeling was soft… Comforting.. Gentle… Then Dib began to slip something over his fingers and hand and-

“What are you _doing_..!?” He asked as Dib pushed the corsage onto Zim’s wrist.

“It, um, seemed sort of,... Romantic in my head-” To that, Zim clamped his mouth shut tight. Romantic, huh? He kept still, let the human leave it momentarily around his wrist. The band was way too big for him and so the flower fell, lopsided. Zim looked away. That wretched heat was back in his face. “It’s not that romantic now that I’m doing it…” 

“I told you I do not desire your terrible plant life,”

Dib shrugged. “It looks cute on you,”

 _CUTE._ That horrible word, and yet… Zim sighed. He couldn’t even get angry anymore. He reached and tugged the thing off, flung it onto Dib’s lap. He put his face in his hands. “Now, hey, come on, I’m sorry,”

“Zim would like to continue… This.. Dating… Ritual thing… For now…” he mumbled into his hands.

“Really?”

“Don’t… Make me repeat it, pig-human,”

“Okay, okay,” Dib sighed, but Zim was horrified to recognize the relief in his voice. How his whole self relaxed. So he wanted this as badly as Zim did. That was stupidly relieving...

“Do you want to go home?” Dib asked suddenly.

“No.” 

“Oh. Cool. Neither do I.”

Somewhere, a bird flitted from its tree. The darting of some little rocent rustled a nearby bush. 

Dib pointed up, “Look. You can see Venus tonight,” 

Zim squinted, took advantage of Dib’s attention being averted from him to scoot closer. 

“Where?” He asked.

“There-” Dib kept pointing. Zim squinted. “Can you see it?” 

“No,” Zim lied. Dib reached and oh so carefully angled his shoulders, then head to gaze in the right direction… The direction he’d been looking at all along. A tiny blip of light, yellow, nearly golden amongst a sea of blue, icy white stars. 

“See it now?”

Zim hummed. He was thinking of his list back at the base, of the corsage, delicately placed in Dib’s lap right now, of the prom. Had it still gone badly? They weren’t fighting anymore… Counting the steps of human courtship, he realized he hadn’t reached one of them yet. He forced himself to stare straight up for a moment.

  
“Dib-human,”

“What?”

“Allow Zim to kiss you.” He looked straight on at Dib. It wasn't a commanding sounding as Zim would have liked. Beside him, the human stiffened.

“Are you- uh- are you sure you want to… Do … That?”

“Zim would not have asked if I didn’t want it,”

Dib’s cheeks were red as he looked aside, “If you really want to then, go for it…”

Zim tuned and faced Dib on his knees. He stared at him intently for a long moment, watched him squirm uncomfortably, bite his lip.

He plucked off his gloves and set them carefully atop one another at his side. He leaned forward and took a small breath. He took either side of Dib’s face, leaned in…

Dib’s were lips dry, and for an instant, Zim was flinching waiting for it to hurt. When it didn’t, he welcomed the human closer, forcing his shoulders to relax, to keep his fingers from digging into his flesh. He felt Dib’s teeth, square, all angles, far different from his own. Fascination fluttered through him, and plenty else. His mouth was hot, hotter than Zim would’ve expected. He tasted… Not… Bad. Not quite sweet but not disgusting, as he might have expected.

There was the faint, sugary taste of the punch from earlier and then human saliva, which _was_ a little terrible but for the moment, Zim ignored it. He allowed, despite his drumming pulse, the kiss to deepen, to feel the brush of Dib’s tongue-

They both broke suddenly off, either surprised and a little horrified. Dib wiped his mouth. Zim took three steps back and looked wide eyed, pointedly away.

“Did you hate that,”

“N-no, it was, fine,” Dib answered slowly.

“Just _fine_?”

“It was… Quick…”

“Only _fine_?”

“It wasn’t terrible,”

“No,” Zim agreed, “it wasn’t,”

A stupid look of glee swam in the human’s eyes. “We don’t have to do that often, you know-”

Zim leaned quickly in to plant a kiss at Dib’s cheek. Instantly, he sat back, a foot away, in his earlier spot, legs folded beneath him.

“We shall do it when Zim pleases,”

“Oh,” Dib blinked at him, then smirked, leaning in, “Oh _I_ don’t get a say in this,”

“No. Never.”

“What if… I want another one right now?” He fell forward against Zim and kissed him on the cheek. Zim hissed.

“No! Not without permission!” Dib was still clinging to him.

“May I give you another kiss?”

“Arrggghh.. F...Ffffine, only one.” Another kiss to his cheek, sweet and quick. Zim blushed, grabbing him into a hug instead shoving him away. “Zim will declare from now on, though, when these filthy _kisses_ are allowed,”

“That’s a little unfair,”

“Well the Dib is just going to have to deal with that, then!” Against him Dib laughed. It was a deep sweet, awful sound that made his own chest shudder with something that swelled. Zim held him tight, and it didn't feel like he was being squeezed to death, unable to escape. The stars above felt so unusually bright. A breeze made his antennae twitch, grateful for the open air. That feeling in his chest… Dib’s body pressed against his… A skip in his pulse… Usually, Zim might’ve thought he was dying. Right now…

Right now it felt good.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do any of you know how much i suffered writing this fic? my eyes hurt. anyway I hope you all enjoy it!!!!!! Thanks so much for all the kind words on all of my work lately. Honestly, comments on this site make my whole entire day. I could never truly portray my appreciation. :-) <3

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY TORQUE I DID YOU SO DIRTY.
> 
> I might write a second parter to this, at prom, but we'll see. I'm not sure I love this fic anyway, so. Don't get your hopes up.... Although prom fics are godtier ZaDr.................


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